Last Wolf Standing

by Rhyannon Byrd

  Moments later, Mason was grudgingly taking her down the stairs, the others waiting in the kitchen. Torrance shoved her trembling hands in her front pockets, not wanting to look nervous in front of the young Lycan, but when she walked into the warm, soothing room and he turned a pair of deep brown eyes on her, she couldn’t control the small gasp that rushed past her lips. She knew that he was, in essence, one of the bad guys, one of the creatures from her nightmares, but the sight of him broke her heart.

  He was…beautiful; a fallen-angel kind of beautiful. Thick, caramel-colored hair fell to his shoulders, framing a face saved from being too pretty by a hawk nose and square chin. Those brown eyes studied her from beneath heavy lashes, and there was too much pain in that solemn, watchful gaze. Too much grief and regret…too much worry and fear.

  He still had the youthful lankiness of his age, hovering there on the cusp of adulthood. No longer really a boy, and yet, not quite a man. But he was obviously carrying a man’s guilt, and she wanted to help him, the same way that he’d helped her. There was just something about him that drew her to him.

  “Hi, Elliot,” she said softly, sitting down at the end of his bed. “My name is Torrance.”

  “Hey.” His voice was quiet, his expression guarded, haunted gaze flicking nervously from her to Mason and back again.

  “I wanted to thank you for saving me yesterday. It was an extremely brave thing for you to do.”

  “Torrance—”

  “Be quiet, Mason,” she said, cutting him off, “or you can go back upstairs.”

  He made a low growling noise in response, which she ignored, keeping her attention on the teenager. “I know what it’s like to find yourself in the middle of something that overwhelms you, Elliot. Until a few days ago, I thought I had a good grasp on everything—and then in the blink of an eye, all of it changed. Life has a way of doing that to people.”

  “Yeah,” he rasped, the look in his dark eyes so full of pain, she wanted to cry for him—for whatever horror it was that was tearing him apart.

  “I know you talked a bit to Mason and Jeremy about Simmons, but I think there’s something you’re keeping to yourself. There’s something more, isn’t there?”

  He swallowed, his gaze glassy. But he didn’t say no.

  “Did something happen?” she asked gently. He did a kind of full-body tremor, but kept quiet, huddling back into the corner, where the bed had been pressed up against the wall. “To someone you care about?”

  “No,” he said thickly. “I…I didn’t even know her.”

  Torrance curled her leg under her body, folding her hands in her lap. “It might make you feel better, Elliot. To talk about it.”

  “I can’t.” His eyes screwed shut, voice full of anguish…and regret. “It was…I can’t.”

  “If you don’t let it out and ask for help, how do you know that it won’t happen again?”

  He lowered his head, cradling it between his palms, his fingers digging into his scalp so hard that she winced. “I don’t want to think about it. I…I didn’t mean to do it, but he told me that I might end up hurting Marly if I didn’t learn control first.”

  He was talking, which they’d wanted. And yet Torrance knew that she didn’t want to hear this—that it was going to tear her up inside. But it had to be done.

  Taking a deep breath, she asked, “Who’s Marly? Is she a girl you like, Elliot?”

  “Yeah. She’s—God, what does it matter?” he muttered, looking away, staring at the wall. “She’ll never have anything to do with me now.”

  “Is she part of your pack?”

  He swallowed so hard, she could see the movement in his throat. “I don’t have a pack anymore.”

  Torrance waited, giving him time to work it out, watching him fiddle with a hole in the knee of the jeans Jeremy had given him. “She’s human. I met her at a concert. She’s small, like you,” he added, flicking a quick look up at her, before cutting his gaze back to the torn fabric on his knee. “But her hair is blond, almost white, and she has big blue eyes. She’s so perfect and tiny, like a little doll. God, I was so afraid of what would happen when I tried to…you know. Afraid that I might want to change in the middle of it.” He blew out a rough, shaky breath, and Torrance cast a quick look over at Mason, who was watching them with a closed expression that gave nothing away. She wondered if, like her, he felt the same sense of dread twisting his insides, but turned her attention back to Elliot.

  Pulling at one of the frayed edges, he started unraveling the coarsely woven denim. “I didn’t know anyone to ask about how to, you know…be with a human girl. So a friend of mine said he knew this guy who could help me.” He swallowed, rubbing both palms over his knees, then crossed his arms, hunching deeper into the corner as he muttered, “So I went with him.”

  Keeping her voice gentle, she asked, “Did he take you to Simmons?”

  “Yeah. At this warehouse down in Covington. There were other Lycans there, kids I recognized from both my pack and some of the nearby ones. And this Simmons guy is there, telling us that if we trust him, he can show us how to control our beasts. That he can teach us enough control to take human girls without hurting them—even how to dayshift. All of it. So I went back a few times, and then one night, after we met, he asked me to go with him, told me that he had a surprise for me.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “I don’t even know where they took me,” he rasped, shaking now. “I can’t remember anything about that night except for what happened later.”

  “It’s okay, Elliot. You can tell us, and we’ll try to help you through it.”

  “Simmons had told me that if I joined up with him, he could teach me how to control myself, so that I could be with a girl like Marly. Like an idiot, I’d told him about her, telling him why I wanted to learn more. He said he’d help me, but that I first had to learn how to have sex with a more experienced woman while in control of my wolf.”

  “And so you tried?”

  His cheeks were flushed a brilliant crimson within the ghostly pallor of his face, his breathing rapid and shallow. “Yeah, only…”

  The room went silent, nothing but the slow, inexorable ticking of the clock on the wall to mark the passage of time. “What happened?”

  He shook his head, his body beginning to rock in a gentle back-and-forth motion. “I can’t tell you. You’ll think I’m a monster.”

  “Whatever it is, it isn’t your fault. I think you were set up by this Simmons jerk. Manipulated by him, Elliot, because he wanted you on his side. If you tell me, it might make you feel better.”

  “Yeah?” he snorted. “You won’t think so after I tell you.”

  “Try me,” she offered.

  “I killed her.”

  The three words blasted into the room with the force of a bullet, jolting her.

  “Why?” Torrance kept her voice soft and easy, even while dread twisted her stomach into a painful, churning knot.

  He took a deep, trembling breath, and then the words just tumbled out of his mouth, ragged and hoarse with emotion. “She wasn’t experienced, like Simmons said. I thought I had all this control, after what he’d shown me. I thought I could keep my wolf under wraps if I wanted, right? I think they must have given her something, because she was really coming on to me. She didn’t act innocent. She acted like…like she knew what she was doing. But, she…she bled when I went in…and it was—I don’t…I don’t know how it happened. All I know is that I lost it and I changed. There was blood everywhere. On the bed, the walls, in my mouth. And she was…Oh, Jesus, it was a nightmare. I totally freaked, and someone knocked me out. Some guy named Curry, I think. When I came to, they told me that I’d killed her and I couldn’t go back to the pack. That Simmons had turned rogue and I’d have to join up with them.”

  Reaching out to him, Torrance took his hand, his fingers cold and damp as they clutched on to her like a lifeline. “Elliot, I’m so sorry.”

  He flinched at the words, staring
at her through red, desolate eyes. “Why are you sorry?”

  “Because they used you as much as they used that girl,” she told him. And then, as gently as possible, she said, “Where’s Marly now?”

  His eyes slid closed, fingers pulling away from her hold as he wrapped his arms around his middle. “I don’t know. I think they told her something bad about me, because she stopped taking my calls and never called me back.”

  “Do you think you were in the mountains?” Mason asked. “Or still down in the city?”

  “I don’t know.” He opened his eyes, his gaze haunted as he looked toward Mason. “I don’t want to remember.”

  “So you’ve been staying with them,” she murmured, “because you thought you had no choice.”

  “They told me I was one of them now. That I’d killed and had to face the consequences. The laws…”

  Mason spoke quietly from his place against the wall. “Just forget the laws right now, Elliot.”

  “Are you going to kill me?”

  He made a sharp sound of disgust. “We don’t murder children.”

  The boy’s chin lifted, his jaw hard. “I’m not a child.”

  “What happened, it will take time for you to get over—but it wasn’t your fault, Elliot. Simmons played you, and got exactly what he wanted.”

  “I killed her,” Elliot grated, the words raw with anger and loathing. “I murdered her. For that, I should die.”

  “That’s not true,” Torrance said with firm conviction. “No matter what they did, it didn’t change you, Elliot. You’re still a good person. You didn’t let them hurt me, did you?”

  “I couldn’t,” he groaned, his voice cracking with emotion as he moved his gaze to her face. He stared at her, the look in his eyes making her shiver, and quietly said, “You…You reminded me of Marly.”

  * * *

  They came up the stairs a few moments later, understanding that Elliot needed some time alone. Mason had hoped to get her aside so that they could talk, but Torrance immediately headed for the bedroom, murmuring that she wanted a shower. Not that he could blame her. Elliot’s horrifying story left an ugly coat of disgust on your skin that made you want to scrub yourself clean. Mason hadn’t thought he had any sympathy to give to someone who’d fallen into Simmons’s clutches, but something in his gut hurt for the young man who’d been so obviously traumatized by what had happened to him. The guilt was eating Elliot inside out. It was tragic and infuriating—and it made Mason want to get his hands on Simmons and wipe the earth clean of his filth once and for all.

  He just had to find him.

  Rubbing at the knots of tension in the back of his neck, he found the others waiting for him in the kitchen and filled them in on what Elliot had confessed downstairs. Afterward, he escaped to his office to check his e-mail again, but so far none of his sources had anything to report. He hadn’t thought Simmons would head back down to Covington, but he’d wanted to cover his bases just in case. And none of the Runners he’d e-mailed had anything for him, either. He had one call on his cell from Pallaton that he returned, and then, thinking he’d given Torrance enough time alone, he headed toward his bedroom.

  Before he could open the door, Mason heard her talking and realized two things at once: she was on the phone with someone. And she was upset.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing here, Mic. It’s so confusing. I want him so badly, but I’m afraid of getting too close to him. I mean, there’s no way he’s going to let himself feel something for me, so I know I should step back and save myself the heartache—but this mating thing between us just keeps pulling on me, making me want to throw myself at him.” She paused, probably listening to Michaela on the other end of the connection, then softly said, “I’m glad he was honest about it, too, but it still sucks. And I don’t think there’s any chance of him changing. It’s tearing me apart, not knowing if I’m making the right choice by trying to keep my distance or if I’m just screwing everything up.”

  “Son of a bitch,” he cursed under his breath, her words making him feel like a world-class jackass. Why couldn’t she just be satisfied with what he could give her. Why did she have to insist on an idiotic ideal that he knew he was never going to be able to offer her? It was like trying to hammer a square peg into a round hole. No matter how hard he tried, the fit just wasn’t there—and the knowledge was enough to make him want to turn and slam his fist into the wall.

  Why did everything have to be so bloody complicated?

  Three days ago his life had been simple. Hunt…and kill. In between, food and the occasional woman when his body needed the release. His friends and his family. Easy and straightforward, he’d known his way through every situation like clockwork. Known what to do…and how to do it to achieve the desired results. And now he couldn’t even handle one delicate, beautiful little human, who just so happened to possess a bit of backbone.

  With his hands shoved deep in his pockets, Mason forced himself to walk away, moving silently down the hall. He’d heard enough. Anything else and he’d be throwing open the bedroom door and—Hell, he didn’t know what he would do. What else was there to say? No, he couldn’t deal with it right now. Until he got Simmons and she was safe, nothing could change. He didn’t even want it to, he reminded himself with a surly growl. He didn’t want to lose his heart to her. He just wanted to have her, all of her, and still be able to protect himself at the same time.

  Mason stopped instantly in his tracks, nearly stumbling over his own feet as his mind snagged on that particular phrase.

  All of her.

  He played it over again, dissecting it, looking at it from every angle, until the truth finally slammed into him so hard he slumped to the side, just like a drunk whose legs wouldn’t hold him up. Propped against the wall, Mason stared sightlessly at the floor, his brain buzzing with the stunning, earth-shattering revelation.

  He wanted her heart.

  Oh, yeah, he thought, shaking his head. He was a contrary bastard, but there was no denying it. He wanted Torrance to love him. Wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything in his entire life—and it scared the holy living hell out of him. Needing something to calm the jittery feeling in his gut, he headed for the kitchen and found Jeremy standing at the sink, sipping from a cup of coffee as he stared out at the forest. “Want a cup?”

  “No, thanks,” he rasped, wondering when his voice had started sounding like a gravel pit. “Keep going the way you are with that coffee and you’re going to end up a caffeine addict. That must be your tenth cup of the day.”

  “I’m already a caffeine addict.” Jeremy laughed without looking away from the idyllic view. “Now I just feed the addiction.”

  “Well, I need something stronger,” he muttered, opening the pantry to pull out a bottle of Jack. “Where did Brody and Cian go?”

  “They headed home to get a few hours’ sleep. I don’t think they got much last night after dealing with the mess we left in the woods.”

  “They better sleep while they can.” He poured two fingers into a glass and tossed back a sharp, satisfying swallow of the whiskey as he planted himself in one of the chairs. “I have a feeling things are gonna start happening fast.”

  Turning away from the window, Jeremy sent a critical glance at the dark amber liquid in his glass. “She driving you to drink already?”

  A hard, jagged sound jerked from his throat, and Mason lowered his head, watching the hypnotic swirl of the whiskey as he rolled his glass between his hands, elbows planted on his spread knees. “Driving me outta my ever-loving mind,” he muttered, before tossing back another long, satisfying swallow, enjoying the burn as it seared down his throat, settling hot and smooth in his gut.

  Hitching himself up on the tiled counter, Jeremy took a slow sip of coffee. “You know what your problem is, Mase?”

  Yeah, he knew what his problem was. His problem was five feet, four inches of irresistible, addictive female that had him so tied up in emotional knots, he felt like a frig
gin’ ball of string. “Something tells me you’re going to be a pal and spell it out for me,” he said, the resignation in his tone unmistakable.

  “That’s right, because you’re like a brother to me. I’m not going to stand by and watch you wreck the best damn thing that’s ever happened to you because you’re too chickenshit to open your eyes to what’s going on.” Finishing off his coffee, Jeremy set the empty mug in the sink, scratched at the golden stubble on his chin, then crossed his arms over his chest. “Did you see all those books she had in her apartment?”

  “What about ’em?” he drawled, leaning back in his chair, one hand curled around the glass of whiskey as he rested it on the table, the other lying indolently across his stomach.

  A small smile hovered at the edge of Jeremy’s mouth. “They were all fantasies, dude. Romances.”

  “Your point?”

  “She’s a dreamer, Mase.”

  “Yeah,” he grunted, tossing back another deep swallow of the whiskey. “And we’re the nightmare.”

  Jeremy shook his head, his hazel eyes piercing. “That’s not what I’m saying, man.”

  Frustration roiled through his gut, keeping company with the slow burn of the whiskey. “If you’re trying to tell me something, then for God’s sake, just say it.”

  “She believes in love,” his partner shot back in a rough blast of words, clearly losing his patience. “In happily-ever-afters and till death do you part. Stop selling yourself short, because the woman is already nuts for you. Hell, she was made for you. You think you can overcome this as easily as you’ve managed everything else. But guess what? You can’t. This isn’t just another asinine rule that pisses you off. This is something that grabbed you and Torrance by the throat, something deeper and more powerful than any pain-in-the-ass law the pack could ever have come up with. You can’t twist it to fit your terms.”

  “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. And at the risk of repeating myself,” he growled, “this is pretty rich coming from you.”